A Robin's Broken Wing
by bunny.moment
Summary: Tim pressed his face into his palms as he screamed out the pain he had been bottling up. Jason winced at the sound, finding it unbearable to handle. He desperately wanted to fix his little brother. To take his pain and endure it for him.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Breathe**  
 **  
**

 **Warning: mentions of self-harm, eating disorders, rape, and suicide.**

 _ ****_

Tim's back pressed against the wood panelled wall as he slid down and crumpled to the floor. Tears expelled from his eyes as he choked out a hiccup of air in exhaustion. Jason quickly gathered the sobbing teen into his masculine arms, providing a warm  
embrace for his defeated brother.

Tim pressed his face into his palms as he screamed out the pain he had been bottling up. Jason winced at the sound, finding it unbearable to handle. He desperately wanted to fix his little brother. To take his pain and endure it for him.

Jason clasped a warm hand on the raven haired boy's cheek and pressed him into his chest. He gently rocked back and forth trying to comfort Tim, as well as himself. But his kid brother had been broken.

Jason leaned his chin against Tim's head, breathing the scent of his ebony hair into his lungs. He tilted down and kissedTim's sweaty hair that was now sticking to his skin. Pressing his cheek against Tim, he squeezed his brother's small frame as  
tight as he could without hurting the kid. Tim's forehead felt hot against Jason's skin. He continued to rock as he whispered a hush to the crying boy.

When Jason moved his arm to get a better grip on his brother, his thumb snagged Tim's sweater sleeve and exposed the pale flesh flecked with pink scars and crimson scabs. The decorated skin of old and recent self-injuries. Jason hadn't realized how escalatedthe  
struggle had become for the young teen.

Jason's heart became heavy and he could feel his own hot tears begin to burn his eyes. How could a family of detectives let this go unnoticed for so long? The kid never ate anymore, he stayed in his room all day doing "work", and he never patrolled with  
anyone else.

Jason was snapped out of his thoughts when he felt Tim shaking and gasping for breath. He was hyperventilating.

Jason cautiously grabbed theteen's throat and angled his head upwards so he could see his face.

"Tim, listen to me," Jason demanded in a stern, but worried tone. He could see the fear in the bloodshot, blue eyes staring back at him.

"Breathe in. Take a deep breath, Tim!" Jason took an exaggerated inhale mimicking the type of breath he wanted Tim to imitate.

The boy choked on a breath caught in his throat and continued to panic. His small fists clutched onto the older male's jacket.

"Tim!" Jason shouted louder as he repositioned himself on his knees, pulling Tim in front of him, and grabbing the sides of his kid brother's face to hold his head steady. He kept his own face a mere inch in front of the teen's as he tried desperatelyto  
force everything around them out of focus.

"Copy my breath, Tim. Come on." Jason breathed in deep, expanding his chest as he took notice of the kid obeying and attempting to take in more air. The taste of stale cigarettes lingered on Jason's tongue as he breathedbreath after hotbreath  
into Tim's face.

Relief swept over Jason as he kept breathing deeply until Tim was able to match the same length of breath.

"That's my boy!" He quickly pulled his little brother into his warm embrace for the small victory. "That's it, Babybird!"

Jason brushed his hand against Tim's cheeks to wipe away the excess tears that had accumulated and dried. The only sound at the moment was the inhalation and exhalation of his younger brother breathing.

He softly whispered into Tim's soiled locks, "That's it Timmy. You're gonna be okay." It may have been a lie, but it was more of a reassurance for himself. All he wanted to do was hold his brother as tight as he could and never let go.

"Jason..."

A muffled cry broke the silence as the teen pressed his face against Jason's chest.

"Shh..." Jason cooed as he felt Tim's breath begin to shorten.  
"Calm down first, Babybird. We have all night to talk, but I want you to calm down first."

Jason rubbed soothing circles on Tim's back rhythmically. As he tracedhis hand over the fabric of his thin sweater, he could feel the extreme sharpness of every protrudingbone in his back. Vertebrae. Shoulder blades. Every individual rib...

How was it no one hadnoticed the shape his kid brother was in? 


	2. Mending a Broken Wing

**I noticed in the last chapter some words were combined and also some unnecessary spaces were applied. Even though I edit these chapters, I guess posting from the app messes with the sentences a bit. So forgive any mistakes.**  
 **  
**

As time lingered on, Jason could feel the weight of the previous events taking it's toll on his tired, bloodshot eyes. Nodding off momentarily, he was rustled back to reality when he felt the boy he was holding in his arms tilt his head up to look at him.  
style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.301961);" 

Jason placed a warm hand on Tim's flushed cheek and gave him a relieved smile that no more tears were falling from the younger's face.

"Hey, Babybird," he whispered to the tired baby blue eyes peering up at him. With that, he decided to to ease his aching body and retire to the unmade bed in the room.

He scooped his arm under Tim's legs and hoisted him up bridal style. The younger brother didn't resist any and allowed himself to be carried. He draped his thin arms around Jason and rested his face in the crook of his neck. He breathed in his brother's  
scent, letting the intoxicating mix of soap, aftershave, and sweat fill his lungs.

As Jason crossed the room with no difficulties, he could feel the lithe weight of his little brother. Tim had always been thin even weighing up to one hundred pounds less than Jason, but he had to be just barely more than one hundred pounds now; the difference  
making up his entire weight.

Sharp edged bones pierced through the fabric of his clothes with made Jason more careful of the fragile cargo he held.

The older gentleman gently laid the young teen on the bed and turned to tiptoe away when he felt little bony fingers wrap around his wrist. He snapped his gaze back and looked into the wide doe eyes of the young male.

On the verge of more tears, Tim pleaded with his older brother. "Please don't go!"

Jason placed a hand on Tim's sweat soaked, raven hair and leaned down to whisper sympathetic words. "I'll be right back. I'm just going to turn the lights off."

He gave a dry kiss on the frightened teen's forehead and tussled his hand through the long locks that tangled around his fingers.

Tim released his grip, trusting his brothers word on his return.

Jason made his way to the bright pool of light spilling out of Tim's private bathroom. He grabbed a thick, blue hand towel off the back of the mahogany door and held it under the warm running water at the sink. He glanced at his reflection making notes  
of the dark circles taking up residence under his tired eyes.

Jason bent down and rustled through the cabinet under the sink to find some bandages and gauze. He was pleased that the kid was meticulous about keeping everything organized in there.

Flicking off the light switch and returning the bathroom to a cavern of darkness, Jason cautiously made his way back to Tim's bed, giving his eyes time to adjust to the emptiness of the colorless room surrounding him.

The moonlight shining through the balcony window provided him with enough light to see the figures resting inside the still room.

The thin teen had curled into him self on top of the messy covers making himself appear even smaller than he had become in recent months.

Jason set the bandages and gauze on the cluttered nightstand and took a seat on the edge of the queen sized mattress.

Unsure if his silent brother was actually asleep or just trying to imitate unconsciousness to prevent any interrogations on his actions, Jason gently brushed his fingers over the young boy's sweater. He gripped the fabric and forced it slowly up Tim's  
torso, exposing the soft, pale flesh.

The second youngest member of the Batfamily shot his hands down with lightning speed and shoved his baggy sweater back into place. He had gotten used to hiding his body from the rest of his detective family that it became instinct born into him to avoid  
human contact.

"Come on, Timmy," Jason coaxed in a calm voice. "I already know they're there. I just want to clean them out is all."

Tim rolled to the opposite side of the bed to escape Jason's roaming hands as he resisted the help and blathered on in a panic. "It's okay! I can go do that right now! I'll be right back-"

"Tim!" Jason sternly shouted as he held on tight to Tim's wrist, preventing his sudden, explosive departure.

Tim paused as he felt the panic well up in his chest. He knew Jason only had good intentions, but he was still fearful of what his brother would think of his shameful and grotesque marked skin. The ugly secrets forced to be worn like a dishonorable badge  
for all of eternity.

"Hey!" Jason playfully jilted Tim's arm to snap him out of his daydream. He could sense the younger's anxiety, and treaded cautiously.

"Come here," Jason motioned with a nod for Tim to return to the confines of the bed. He patiently tugged the teen's arm and coerced him back onto the sheets.

As Tim obeyed and crawled closer to his brother, Jason again, reached for the hem of the oversized baggy sweater. He began to lift the fabric, but receded when Tim took control and did it the rest of the way himself.

With the younger male's arms raised above, pulling the sweater up over his head, Jason's voice caught in his throat at the sight of Tim's naked torso. He had lost so much muscle and weight, leaving him to resemble a skeleton with skin stretched over the  
sharp, angular bones.

Jason's heavy heart burdened him once more as the painful sight was burned into his retinas. A memory he would find hard to shake.

"Oh god, Tim," he staggered a breath over his hand as he covered his gaping jaw in shock. "Jesus! Look at you."

Tim wrapped his arms around himself feeling ashamed and embarrassed by Jason's understandable reaction.

Jason saw Tim's morose recoil and quickly grabbed his little brother by his biceps. He jerked the boy a little harder than he had intended.

"Tim-" all he could manage to say was the kid's name before he shuddered a breath to stifle the sudden tears welling up inside.

Jason took a deep inhale, regained his composure, and returned his hardened gaze back to Tim. The teen shrunk away while trying to avoid the hurt look on his older brother's face.

"Tim," Jason said louder as he shook Tim's right arm to get the kid to look him in the eyes. "Listen, buddy. I'm not mad at you. Okay?"

Tim didn't respond.

Jason continued with a soft gruff in his voice, "I'm mad at myself for not noticing sooner. That I didn't notice how much pain you were in. I promise, Tim, I could never be angry with you. Okay?"

Tim slightly tossed his head in acknowledgement, but Jason wasn't entirely convinced his brother believed his honest words.

"I mean it, Tim. I may not understand right now, but I'm here for you. I'm not going anywhere and I'll try my best to help you through this. I promise, I won't let you go through this alone anymore."

Jason pulled Tim into his warm, protective embrace.

"I'll stay with you for as long as you need me to. That's my promise to you, Tim." He eased his hand under Tim's chin and tilted the blushing face upwards. "I always told you I would protect you no matter what; even if that means I have to protect you  
from yourself."

He released Tim's chin as he watched tears pool in the corners of the sea of blue eyes staring up at him.

Jason grasped the nape of Tim's neck and placed a loving kiss on the teen's sticky forehead.

Tim instantly hung his head as he forced himself to hold in his emotions. His fingers nervously picking at the skin next to his fingernails, he bit back the salty tears that were threatening to stain his rosy cheeks.

Jason shifted on the bed to gather the damp towel and bandages. He held his palm out and was pleasantly surprised when Tim placed his injured forearm in the awaiting hand without resistance.

"Thank you," Jason mumbled, as he didn't feel like fighting with any defiance in the late midnight hours.

Jason dabbed at the superficial cuts decorating Tim's arm, making sure to be extra careful wiping the dried blood on the teen's skin. A few of the wounds broke open and began to seep blood again. He held the towel on the freckled goose flesh while applying  
pressure to the abrasions.

"Does this hurt?" Jason asked, not wanting to cause anymore pain to the unsteady teen.

"It feels better," Tim's voice cracked. His throat was raw and burned from the crying that ensued earlier.

"Than what?" Jason scoffed.

"Everything else."

A silence fell between the two boys. Jason wasn't sure how to respond. He felt bad for his kid brother.

As Jason focused on the task at hand, he heard Tim quietly utter his name.

"Jason?"

Jason didn't have to say anything to acknowledge he was listening. He just cocked an eyebrow upwards and waited.

"I don't feel good," Tim self consciously moaned.

"I know, buddy." Jason understood what Tim was trying to convey; he wasn't physically ill, but mentally and emotionally unwell.

Tim continued in his soft tone with unease lingering on every spoken word, "are you gonna tell Bruce?"

Jason felt backed into a corner with the query. "Why don't you talk to me first, kiddo?"

Tim curled his lip in as he chewed on the skin of his chapped lips. He pondered what to say next, but no words could form that would express what he wanted to say.

Jason unrolled the gauze and began to wrap Tim's arm. He waited for Tim to open up, but when he didn't say anything more, he spoke up himself.

"Why do you do it?"

"What?" Tim listlessly asked. He heard his brother's question, but he was trying to buy some time to think of a solid excuse that he could pass off as plausible.

"What's going on in there?" Jason inquired as he tapped a finger to Tim's temple.

"I don't know," Tim sighed in exasperation. He was torn between wanting to confide in his older brother, or continue to bottle everything inside. He was being ripped apart from the inside out.

"What does the pain feel like?" Jason followed up.

Tim had a sullen look mask over his face as he delivered his one word answer.

"Unbearable..." 


	3. Tipping the Bottle

**Much like the previous chapters, all apologies for any errors while reading. Posting chapters from the app tends to alter sentence structure, paragraphs, or add in odd html coding. If I make an attempt to eradicatethe error by editing the chapter, entire paragraphs get deleted for some reason.**  
/

"It's a constant numbness. Short temper. No focus... Patience is non existent. I think back through the week and it's a complete blur, like I had been in a coma. Time is slipping and I'm grasping at nothing but air, just trying to gain some ground.  
/

"It's not that I'm sad, depressed, angry, or whatever; it's like I blew a fuse and now I feel absolutely no emotion. It's that empty feeling that drives me over the cliff's edge... And I can see the edge vastly approaching."

A moment of silence breaks the presence of lyrical words before Jason softly speaks encouragingly to his damaged brother, "that's very poetic, Tim. How long have you been feeling this way?"

"Awhile," Tim vaguely answered.

Jason rose from the bed and placed the damp towel, now stained with remnants of drying blood, onto the back of Tim's computer chair. He wondered if he should toss it in the garbage or leave it in the soiled laundry for Alfred to discover. But raising  
/the entire Batclan, he assumed Alfred must be immune to the sight of blood splatter on fabrics.

Jason kicked off his shoes and slid his pants down his legs. Tossing his shirt over to the heap of laundry in the corner, his boxers were the only piece of clothing that remained on his muscular silhouette.

He crawled back onto the queen sized bed and pulled the covers up against both of their bodies. He reached his arm out and coaxed the teen to roll into his awaiting wing. Tim obeyed and curled into Jason, letting the older man wrap his arms tightly around  
/him. He rested his face onto Jason's chest and listened to the soothing beat of his thumping heart. He finally felt peaceful inside his brother's protective embrace.

"What should I do?" Jason sighed as he held onto the kid.

Tim didn't respond for he didn't have the answer himself.

"Please help me understand what you need, Tim. I'll do anything for you."

Tim traced an invisible line with his finger, connecting faint freckles on Jason's chest.

"Please don't tell Bruce," Tim pleadingly whispered.

"Why keep this from him?" Jason quizzed.

"I don't want him to worry," Tim quickly added. "I don't want him to think it was his fault. I don't want him to think I'm unfit for Robin. I don't want to seem weak... I just want him to keep thinking I'm fine."

"But you're not fine, Tim," Jason pointed out sullenly.

Tim didn't have a response ready. It was true; he wasn't doing well.

A moment lapsed between them before Tim's voice broke the silence, "what do you think he'll do?"

Jason thought of the scenario and how Bruce would likely remedy the situation. "Well, he'll be hurt knowing that you've been this way for so long and didn't feel comfortable enough asking for his help. Then he'll probably try to figure out how to fix  
/the way you're feeling."

"He's going to take Robin from me," Tim exhaustingly accused at the realization of his future crumbling down into pieces.

"Tim, we all just want you better." Even though nobody else in the Batfamily had spoken of Tim's state, Jason assumed the rest of the family had their suspicions that something wasn't right with the second youngest.

Jason also knew Bruce would make Robin hang up his cape for awhile while Tim worked on becoming healthy again.

"But you're the best detective out of all of us," Jason reassured. "B won't allow you to be out of the game forever. Once you're better, he'll welcome you back and proudly have you by his side again as Robin."

The thought of losing Robin was the last ounce of weight Tim could bear. He slammed his fist on the headboard in sheer frustration, causing Jason to flinch from the sudden outburst.

Jason leaned on his elbows, giving himself some distance from Tim, whom had sat up and was banging his clenched fists upon his thighs as he screamed every following word.

"I have lost so much already! My mom! My dad! Steph! Conner! My innocence..." Tim shook his head in a measure to erase the last omission as tears began to flow from his clenched eyes.

"I can't lose Robin, too! I'll have nothing left!"

Jason couldn't handle watching Tim pound bruises into his pale thighs. He grabbed his arms and wrenched his little brother flat on his back as he pinned him to the bed with his own body weight.

Jason's own temper was consuming him while he watched Tim struggle to fight his way out from under his overpowering brute strength.

"Stop, Tim! Stop!" Jason shouted as Tim feverishly attempted to outmaneuver the hold.

"Look at you!" Jason furiously hollered, causing Tim to pause in exhaustion. "You've become so weak! You have no strength anymore! If we let you go out as Robin, you could be killed with how weak you've gotten!" Jason let a tear escape his eye and roll  
/down his cheek onto Tim. "Don't put us in that position!"

Jason squeezed his eyes shut, allowing more tears to cascade down his face. He choked on with his speech in a softer tone as he struggled for words from his tight throat, "don't let Bruce go through that again, Tim. Don't make him bury another child." 

Jason couldn't hold back any longer. His own demons had risen and filled his heart with guilt. He leaned down, releasing his grip on Tim's wrists and wrapped his arms around his brother's waist. Tim returned the hug by tangling his spindly arms around  
/Jason's neck and holding on as tightly as he could.

Jason buried his face into Tim's neck and whispered between sobs, "don't kill yourself! Don't do that to us! You need help, Tim!" His voice caught in his throat and he shuddered a hot breath onto the nape of Tim's neck, causing the boy to reflexively  
/shy away from the ticklish sensation.

"I want help, jay, but I don't know what to do," Tim whimpered as he clung to the older male.

Jason felt slight relief wash over him with the words Tim had uttered: 'I want help'.

He attempted to raise up to look at his brother with admiration, but was halted when he felt Tim squeeze tighter and echo his feelings, "please don't let me go."

Jason shifted his weight to the side of his brother and pulled the kid to his chest. Tim curled into the warmth as he lost control of the emotional bottle that was spewing forth. He cried painful sobs of fear, doubt, worry, and panic as his brother  
/gripped his lithe body.

As Jason tightly held Tim's small frame, he raised the question that came to his mind during Tim's rant.

"Tim? What did you mean when you said you 'lost your innocence'?"

Tim's crying caught in a surprised choke as he realized Jason noticed the slip of his carefully held secret.

When Jason felt the teen's body tense up in his arms, he took to rubbing calming circles over his skeletal back to ease his tension and relax him a bit.

"It's okay, Babybird. Just hold onto me and let it out. I'm here for you. Please tell me what it is."

Tim closed his eyes, took in a deep, staggered breath and began to speak, allowing the bottled emotions of his secret to spill tenderly from his lips.


	4. Flashback Part 1

**As always, apologies for any errors. Posting from the app messes with sentence structure and re editing chapters makes entire paragraphs disappear.**  
 **  
**

Three years ago

The young teen stumbled into the cold, dark batcave clutching his abdomen. Blood cascadedthrough his fingers as he pressed his side like he was ineffectually going tokeepthe blood from spilling out. His weakened body faltered with each  
agonizing step.

The boy screamed violently, "Alfred!?" He paused listening for footfalls from the butler.

As he staggered closer towards the staircase leading to Wayne Manor, his breathing became even more labored. Gasping for breath as a sharp pain struck him stiff.

He padded along the cold, stone floor with bare feet covered in driedblood and filth from Gotham. Tears escaped his eyes as he winced in pain;bearing his teeth while releasing a guttural groan.

He continued to cry out for a savior to ease his suffering, "Alfred!" His feet grew heavier, scraping his toes with each step like anvils were attached to his legs.

His voice cracked in his final act of desperation. "Alfred, please?"His suffering trailed off into simple words no one could here, "...help..."

The boy was startled by the soft voice he heard from behind him in the shadows.

"Tim?"

Dick Grayson, clad as Nightwing without the domino mask, unveiled himself from the shadowy cave depths with a look of worry hanging onhis face.

The young teenager slowly stumbled to face the eldest son, revealing the bloody mess he clutched in his hands, desperately trying to control the bleeding.

"Oh god!" Dick froze as he staredat the mangled kid before him. A flash of fear crossed his face and his eyes widened in shock when he noticed the crimson blood rushing over the boy's hands.

Tim hunched over from the sheer pain and tripped over his twisted feet, causing him to lose his balance backwards.  
Ever so fluid in motion, Dick skated across the cave to Tim's falling body. Sandwiching the kid between his hands, he placed one on his back to support the weight while the other pressed on his chest to stabilize the teen's weary frame.

Tim regained his footing with the aid of his brother's help. With Dick still kneeling next to him, both maleswere practically face to face as Tim contorted his body in agony.

"Let me see, Timmy," The older male breathed out heavily.

Dickgrabbed Tim's small hands gently and slowly plucked them from the wound. He noted the icy cold hands against his warm flesh as he softly squeezed them in a caring gesture. He moved to holding both of his brother's hands with one of his so he  
could easily lift the blood soaked shirt covering the injury.

Dick could only see blood sputtering from the small hole in Tim's stomach. A dark bruise had already formed around the wound. Dick couldn't tell how much blood had been lost, but he judged from the amount soaked into the jeans, and his kid brother's blue  
lips, he had lost too much already.

Tim whimpered as he tried to catch his aching breath, forcing Dick to snap out of his trancelikedaze. He snatched the kid from where he stood and pulled him in close to his chest. As Dick wrapped his arms around the beatened child's small  
frame, he could feel his brother weighing heavier in his arms.

Tim gasped for air between his blue lips, as his eyes rolled back into his head.

"Timmy, no!" Dick shouted as he repositioned the semi conscious boy onto his knee and tapped his cheek to wake him from his stupor.

Dick leaned down and pressed his ear to Tim's chestto listen for a heartbeat. Very faint.

Cradling the teen in his arms, Dick placed his hand under Tim's chin and tilted his head back to clear his airway.

Tim's eyes flittedopen a bit as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Staggered gasps gargled out of his throat as he clutched his brother's wrist.

"ALFRED!" Dick's voice echoed a boom through the cave as panic filled his body.

"Tim's been shot!"


	5. Flashback Part 2

**As always, sorry for any random coding, or paragraph faults. Posting from the app tends to mix things up a bit.**  
 **  
**

Alfred rushed down the steps to witness Dick enveloping Tim's lifeless body. He feared the urgency of the grave situation for the young lad.  
style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.301961);" 

"Get him to the gurney straight away, Master Richard," Alfred commanded. He turned on the operating lights surrounding the work area; the same space used frequently in the past to mend the broken Bat.

As Alfred pulled on surgical gloves, Dick carefully laid the limp boy onto the clean table.

"Remove his clothes at once, Master Richard," Alfred ordered.

While the faithful servant gathered the medical supplies he would need, Dick began to remove Tim's soiled shirt, causing the boy to awaken from his unconscious state. The teen made low groans of agony as he pawed at Dick's dancing hands.

Dick tossed the shirt aside revealing purple and black flecked skin amongst the river of crimson.

Tim's lip was sliced open with blood drying to his soft chin. As he tried to speak in his delirium, blood sputtered with every aching sound that escaped his mouth.

A bruised welt on his cheekbone had grown substantially since his arrival back to the cave.

As Dick reached to undo Tim's saturated jeans, the boy writhed from the discomfort of having someone touching him. He grabbed Dick's wrist and tried to prevent him from helping. But the older male proved to be much stronger than the exhausted child and  
easily overpowered him with minor force.

Alfred folded up a towel and laid it across Tim's lower half as Dick yanked the jeans down, freeing the young teen's thin legs.

"Master Richard, would you please restrain our lad's arms for me," Alfred requested.

Dick pulled a stool over to sit on as he moved to Tim's head, carefully pulling the teen up the table so he could rest his head on his shoulder.

The child's arms were quickly subdued by his older brother's embrace in a bear hug. Dick held Tim's small wrists, feeling the icy death fingers against his warm palms.

Tim buried his face in the crook of his brother's neck as he winced in pain. He could smell the aroma of sweat and ivory soap filling his lungs. Dick breathed in the acrid scent of iron tainted blood.

Alfred surveyed the entrance site of the wound. Tim's tiny body flinched painful jolts of electricity everytime the butler pressed a soft touch to his skin.

"The bullet appears to be lodged in his abdomen," Alfred commentated. "I'll have to remove it to prevent infection."

Tim's breathing became more heavily labored as Alfred laid his hand on his tender stomach. The slightest amount of pressure was sending agonizing pain throughout his bludgeoned body.

Tim grabbed the sleeve of Dick's forearm and grimaced a whimper. Dick held his brother tighter and pressed a comforting kiss to his cheek.

Alfred inserted an IV into Tim's arm and administered a dose of muscle relaxers and sedatives. He then rubbed iodine around the entrance of the wound. Tim cried a shriek of pain and tried to wriggle free of Dick's grasp.

"My deepest apologies, my dear boy," Alfred apologetically said before turning his attention to the older male. "You must keep him steady, Master Richard. We cannot risk further injury."

Dick confirmed Alfred's request with a nod and flexed his biceps to still the struggling boy in a submissive power hold.

Alfred inserted the forceps into the open cavity causing Tim to scream out in excruciating pain. Tears fell profusely from the corners of his clenched eyes all the while he cried out.

"Please! Stop!" Tim bellowed while sobbing.

As Tim continued to struggle, Alfred could feel the forceps clip the tiny metal shard. The boy kicked his legs fiercely in an attempt to rid himself of the terrible pain he was experiencing.

Alfred quickly removed the forceps and tried to hold Tim still. He placed a weary hand on the boy's stained face. "Dear child, you must try to remain calm and let me help you."

Tim, with tears flowing and still fighting against Dick's brute strength, cried out, "No! It hurts too much! Please?! Just please stop! I can't take it anymore!" His words trailed off as he choked and gasped under his tears.

"Can't you give him something for the pain, Alfred?" Dick interjected.

"Already administered, Master Richard," Alfred replied. "Anymore and we risk an overdose."

Alfred turned his focus back to his young son. "Concentrate on Master Richard, dear boy. The sedative should take over soon. I will try to hurry."

Just then, Jason Todd wandered into the Batcave and removed his helmet. He could see Alfred and Dick surrounding his younger brother and blood pooling at their feet below.

As Jason stepped closer, Tim kicked his legs furiously again, exposing his bruised and bloodied thighs from under the askewed towel. He sensed the worst.

Jason crept up beside Alfred and spoke softly in worry, "Alfred?"

"Ah, good, Master Jason," Alfred spoke without looking up. "Would you please assist me with Master Timothy's injuries?"

Jason nodded and placed the towel back over Tim's battered lower half. He gently pressed his gloved hands on the small teen's bruised legs, but did not effectively restrain him for fear of hurting him further. He realized the strength Tim had in his lithe  
body when Alfred attempted to insert the forceps once again, and the kid kicked his limbs wildly out from under his slight grip.

Jason quickly collected Tim's flailing legs and pinned them down to the table with more force.

Tim tossed his head back onto Dick's shoulder and screamed out in terrible agony, nearly deafening his eldest brother with the blood curdling shriek.

Jason turned his gaze away from the blood gushing profusely from the open wound.

As Alfred pulled the forceps out, a shard of metal shrouded in crimson hung at the end. He dropped the bullet into a metal pan with a clang.

"There, there, my dear child," Alfred applauded while placing a congratulatory hand on Tim's forehead. "The hard part is over now."

Tim returned to a shaken whimper and slowed his labored breathing to a shudder as sobs caught in his throat.

Dick turned his head towards his brother and delivered a kiss on his cheek lovingly. He was relieved the difficult part was now over; or so he thought.

"It's all done," Dick whispered with his face pressed against Tim's sweat soaked skin. "You did great, Babybird. I'm so proud of you." He rubbed his brother's tightly clenched fists in a congratulatory manner.

Tim had stopped fighting the men trying to help him and rested the weight of his head onto Dick's masculine shoulder in exhaustion.

Jason rested his hands on Tim's knees, surveying the brutal scene; his mind racing to conclusions on how his little brother came to having so many abrasions decorating his delicate flesh.

"It doesn't appear the bullet has hit any vital organs, so I can begin suturing the wound now," Alfred spoke professionally.

The butler sanitized the wound with alcohol and began threading the needle through his son's skin.

Jason leaned in towards Alfred and whispered a hot breath against his ear, "Alfred, did you see this?"

Jason lifted the wrapped towel ever so slightly as not to alarm his younger brother. He pinched the soft flesh of Tim's thigh and parted his legs to expose the extent of the damage done.

Alfred knotted the final stitch and glanced at what Jason was directing his attention towards.

"Oh dear!" Alfred gasped a defeated sigh as his heart sank deep into his chest.

He removed the blood stained surgical gloves and pressed a bare hand on Jason's to lower the microfiber back down. He stared into Jason's eyes expressing all his sorrows on his face.

Alfred turned back to Tim's face, whom was very still from the muscle relaxers that had finally taken effect.

He stroked the raven hair, caressed down his neck, and ended on his shoulder as he spoke soothing words, "I'll return to finish cleaning you up, my dear boy. I just have to place a phone call real quick. Nothing to alarm you."

With Alfred taking his leave, Jason released his grip from Tim's frail body and moved to calmly stroking the boy's arm. Tim was nearly asleep by that point.

Dick and Jason sat in silence as they waited for Alfred's return.

After time crept slowly by for the men, Alfred climbed down the cave steps with Dr. Leslie Thompkins patiently trailing behind him. He carried a bowl of warm water and a sponge to rid the dried blood from Timothy's disheveled body.

As both adults approached the table, Dick looked at them with confusion. Alfred had always been able to mend the entire Batfamily with little help from a medical doctor.

Tim slowly stirred awake when Leslie placed a cold, gentle hand on his arm. He looked up at her in bewilderment.

"Hello, Timothy," the doctor began.

Leslie was cut off when Tim puzzled a cry, "what's she doing here?"

"I called her, young master," Alfred mentioned.

"Tim, I came here to help you," Leslie stated. "Can you explain what happened to you?"

Tim fixed his eyes up to the ceiling feeling betrayed by his butler. He pursed his lips in anger, trying to hold in his emotions.

Noticing the uneasiness in the young teen, Leslie continued, "it's okay, honey. I'm here to help you get better."

A tear fell from Tim's crystal blue eyes and rolled down his cheek. He insisted on staying silent, even though he was dying to blurt everything out on the inside.

Alfred leaned closer and whispered to the youth, "don't be afraid, young master. She's a friend and wishes to help you. I will take the other masters up to the den to give you peace during the exam."

Tim's wide eyes screamed silent, fearful cries as he snatched the father figure by his arm and pleaded, "please don't leave me alone!"

"It'll be just fine," Alfred coaxed. He gently collected Tim's hands, plucking them from the grip he had on his suit, and pressed them into his chest, pushing the boy to lay back onto the table.

Still unsure of the reason Leslie was present in the Batcave, Dick interjected, "I'll stay with him, Alfred."

Alfred nodded in acknowledgement and looked back to Tim before asking, "is it alright if Master Richard stays by your side?"

Tim gave a quick nod, still not wanting to have Leslie poking and prodding him, but having his brother there to comfort him was better than nothing.

"Alright," Alfred confirmed. He placed an aged hand on Dick's back with a slight pat of encouragement and strength for the next moment ahead of them. He was proud to have raised such an upstanding individual able to look after the family when he was not  
able to himself.

The faithful servant laid an arm on Jason's shoulder and steered him towards the cave steps.

"Come, Master Jason. Let's get ourselves cleaned up," Alfred inclined to the younger male.

Before the two men reached the steps, Leslie proceeded to work.

"Okay, sweetheart. Just lay still and this will be over soon." 


	6. Flashback Part 3

**Posting from the app, so excuse the random coding, sentence breaks, and paragraph arrangements that happen.**  
 **  
**

"I need you to roll onto your side, please," Dr. Leslie Thompson coaxed.

Tim slowly rolled to his side feeling the aches in his stiff muscles. Dick helped him get into position, then dragged the stool across the floor so he could reposition himself and sit in front of Tim's face.

Leslie lifted the towel, unfolding it to it's length and flashing Tim's bruised thighs to Dick. She laid it on the young teen's hip to keep him decent, but left the back open for the exam.

"Are you ready, Timothy?" Leslie queued

Tim's face had fear wash over it. The cruel truth dancing in his mind as he relinquished the horrific ordeal.

Dick watched his baby brother's eyes widen in panic. He reached out and grasped Tim's hand in support. He saw the knuckles turn white as the teen squeezed his savior's hand tightly.

Tim couldn't help let a gasp of pain escape from his chapped lips once Leslie began the exam. A flood of emotions filled his tainted mind: pain, anger, embarrassment. Tears began to rush out onto the arm he was laying on.

"It's gonna be okay," Dick whispered. "You're my strong Babybird, right?"

Tim was destroyed by the hurtful thoughts in his mind. He clasped his eyes shut and turned his face down to cover his shame with his bare arm. His mouth gaped open with spit strings glistening from his teeth as he tried to forcefully contain his sobs  
quietly. The veins bulging in his neck from the strain.

Leslie momentarily broke the tension in the air with her commentary, "there's a tear I will have to suture, Tim. You'll feel more discomfort, but it'll be over soon." She was sorely mistaken.

"Ow!" Tim gasped as the needle pierced his inflamed skin. His painful cries struck Dick through the heart. His grip tightened to its full extent on his older brother's fist.

Dick stroked the teen's Raven hair and leaned his face mere inches from his brother's. He rested his chin on their entwined hands and attempted to soothe Tim's anguish with good memories.

"Do you remember that night we went out to train together?" Dick began.

Tim tried to search his clouded mind, drifting back and forth between past and present occurrences, coming up short with all the times they had spent together.

Dick continued, "we were blindfolded while train hopping when we got jumped by those unfortunate thugs."

Tim pictured the event in his mind, despite the current pain he was struggling with.

"You kept telling me you were doubting yourself because you weren't physically fit like I was. But you found your strength and took out those thugs like you had been practicing those blindfolded maneuvers your whole life."

Tim quieted his crying to listen to his older brother's tale.

"I didn't tell you this at the time, but I raised my blindfold when I sensed the thugs there. I was afraid you'd get injured and then I'd have to face B," Dick slipped in a joke in an effort to comfort his baby brother.

Dick rubbed Tim's white knuckles with his thumb and continued, "you proved you were more capable than I was; that you were even more brave than I had been.

"You've always been the closest to B. I mean, you were the only one to figure out his identity. You train relentlessly and have a genius level intelligence no one can be taught.

"B got through his dark times after Jason's death because you were his strength by his side. I just-" Dick stuttered on his sentence, becoming emotional.

"I want you to understand that even though you're capable of great strengths, I'm here for you too. Like you were there for B, I'll be right by your side every step of the way. You can lean on me when it's too much for you to handle by yourself. I'll  
never abandon you because you would never abandon us."

Dick lifted their balled fists and kissed the back of Tim's hand, sealing his promise to his brother.

Leslie finished her procedure, stood up and pulled the towel to cover Tim's back.

"Alright, I'm all finished," she said as she removed her gloves.

Dick raised from his seat, releasing his brother's hand. He shook Leslie's hand and thanked her for her services.

"I shall have the test results soon. I advise bed rest for the time being to let his wounds heal properly."

"Right. Thank you again, Leslie," Dick voiced a sigh of relief.

"Take care of him, Dick," Leslie said placing a caring hand on his broad shoulder. "He really needs his family right now."

Dick bit his lip and nodded, struggling to keep his composure.

"I'll see myself out." Leslie packed up her things and relieved the boys of her presence.

Dick grabbed the sponge from the lukewarm water and squeezed out the excess water. He took his seat again and began wiping away the stains on Tim's baby soft skin. He wished he could cleanse his brother's mind as well, but for now, he just took to  
wiping away the physical memories on his flesh as the teen's exhausted consciousness withered away to dreamland.


	7. Flashback Part 4

**Apologies for missedspacing and unnecessaryparagraph breaks. Posting from the app that enjoys mixing up my work. And for any hidden html added when publishing. I try to go back and correct it, but entire portions of the story get deleted. So enjoy the coding if you find any. Last chapter surprisingly was free of coding.**  
 **  
**

Dick Grayson dipped the sponge into the lukewarm water, letting it soak up the warmth. He rang out the excess moisture and glided it softly across Tim's cheek. He could hear his brother's quiet snores as he washed his flesh clean of physical memories.  
style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.301961);" 

The sponge soaked up dirt, blood, and tears as it swept across the soft skin. Bruises still dusted the flesh of the sleeping child.

Dick watched Tim's eyelids flit slightly wondering if he was having recurring nightmares or making an escape into a peaceful dreamland.

A tear escaped from Dick's eyes as he choked to hold in a sob. He couldn't imagine what his little brother had gone through, and the fact that he wasn't able to protect him left him with a cloud of guilt looming over his head. Dread and despair filled  
his mind.

He released the sponge into the bowl of water and placed his hands over his eyes, darkening the scenery around him. He doubled over and let the emotions flow from his mind. Tears cascaded between his fingers and down his arms, finding a place of rest  
on his knees where his elbows sat.

As Dick cried for his brother, he questioned reality with racing thoughts:

What happens next?

What does Tim need?

Who did this?

Why did this happen?

Who will tell Bruce?

With thoughts colliding into each other, he decided the next step would amount to just being there for his little brother. Whatever he desired, Dick would be the crutch to get him through it.

He wiped the tears from his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as a headache approached. He stared at Tim peacefully sleeping on the table. His facial expression was soft, conflicting with the contusions and abrasions decorating his skin.  
style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.301961);" 

Dick leaned in, gliding his fingers through Tim's sweat soaked raven hair. Tears continued to slip down his rosy cheekbones with the pain he was feeling for this beaten child.

He felt a heavy hand grasp his shoulder, forcing his body to tense from the surprise of it's presence. He quickly recognized this grip after feeling it's comfort for so many times over the years.

He turned his head and looked up at the man connected to the calloused hand. He knew everything would be fine now that HE had arrived.

Dressed in casual clothing, Bruce Wayne gave a weary smile to his tired eldest son. He rubbed his hand across Dick's shoulder and lightly squeezed the base of his neck as he tilted his head to allow his son to see his face amongst the shadows of the  
cave.

Dick looked back in relief with the common assumption Bruce could fix anything.

"Bruce," Dick sullenly exhaled as he leapt from his seat. He wrapped his arms around the man's neck as the thoughts and emotions filled his mind and flowed from his eyes.

Bruce wrapped his strong arms around Dick's waist and rested his chin on his son's shoulder. He listened to Dick's muffled cries into his shoulder while he traced the silhouette of his third son asleep on the table. The sight would have been unbearable  
for any father to witness his son bruised, naked, and bloodied with blood pooling, both on the table, and creating a waterfall onto the floor below, but Bruce had numbed himself after viewing all of his sons in the same state over the years of  
vigilante crime fighting.

"It's okay, son," Bruce spoke trying to relax the unsteady young man in his arms. He rubbed his hand up and down Dick's spine waiting for him to find the comfort he needed.

"Bruce..." Dick began, but cut off when he sniffed and worked to regain his bearings.

"Yes?" Bruce coaxed, noticing Dick was having a hard time getting the words out.

"It's okay, Dick. I've got us." He listened to Dick release a long exhale, managing to find his focus.

"Bruce. Tim was raped!" He hiccuped the last word, letting it ring in their ears and echo throughout the cave.

The words alone struck Bruce cold. He wasn't used to the sensations arising within him. His mouth dried out, his muscles stiffened, his mind clouded with judgement. He could feel his heart beating faster, and somehow, heavier.

Being the backbone of the family, even though Alfred holds this title better, Bruce cleared his mind and regained his focus. Not only Tim, but Dick needed him as well.

He squeezed his son tighter allowing the warmth from his palms to soak through the fabric of his shirt and onto Dick's solid back.

"We'll get through this, Dick," Bruce hesitated.

The two men stayed in an embrace, only parting when they heard a groggy voice come from behind.

"Dad?"

Dick turned towards the sound, allowing Bruce a clear view of his boy. He could see the bloodshot eyes peering back at him.

"Dad?" Tim moaned again louder as he pressed his hands against the table to force himself in a seated position. His face contorted as tears filled his baby blue eyes to the brim.

Bruce quickly skated over to his injured son.

"My boy!" Bruce exclaimed as he swept his arms around Tim, collecting every bit of his son in his wingspan. He sat on the table and pulled Tim onto his lap.

"Dad!" Tim muffled a cry as he pressed his face against his savior's chest. Bruce didn't even take note of the blood staining his own clothing as he guarded his child in his embrace.

Dick watched Bruce's face soften once his injured boy was safely in his arms. He listened to Tim's wails becoming muffled while their dad squeezed him tightly.

Bruce shifted the towel to cover his naked son after it slid down when Tim curled into his father. He noticed the bruising upon his son's thighs as well as the welts and... Burns?

He placed his hand on the back of Tim's head, allowing the boy's hair to curl around his fingers. He gently massaged the top of his neck and waited for as long as Tim needed to cry.

Dick traipsed closer, reaching down and stroking Tim's thin arm that was clinging around Bruce's neck.

Tim's crying quieted after a moment, allowing Bruce the chance to speak. He leaned his head close to Tim's ear and whispered, creating hot breath that tickled Tim's sensitive skin.

"Tim, are you in any pain?" Bruce first wanted to make sure the drugs were enough to aid his body into healing, but he also wanted to break the ice and lead into questions regarding his injuries.

Tim slowly shook his head. Bruce knew his boys were all stubborn when trying to be brave in front of him and wouldn't admit if they were in pain, but he trusted his son's judgement at the moment.

"What are your injuries?" Bruce held up a finger to Dick, cutting him off before he had a chance to answer for his brother. He was trying to get Tim to open up about the situation.

Tim continued with his barely audible answer.

"Shot."

"Can I see?" Bruce asked.

Tim angled his body away from Bruce and pointed at the sutured injury. Bruce thought it was odd Alfred didn't wrap it up, but assumed he had good reasons.

Tim quickly covered the injury with his hand and leaned back into his father's warmth.

"What else, son?" Bruce doubted Tim was awake enough to hear that Dick had already told him.

Tim became still and just sniffed while releasing hot breaths through his teeth.

"It's okay, Tim. I can't help you if you don't tell me."

Tim wiped his eyes with the back of his hand but refused to answer the question.

"Do you want me to send Dick out of the cave so we can talk in private?"

Tim shook his head no.

"Is it too hard for you to say what happened?"

Tim nodded. Bruce hit the nail on the head with that assumption. Bruce decided to continue his questions so Tim could respond with silent 'yes' or 'no' answers, making it so his son didn't have to stumble on forcing the painful truth through his lips.  
style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.301961);" 

"Were you victimized sexually?"

Bruce felt Tim's tiny body go lax in his arms as if he had just been defeated.

He would have missed the small nod against his pec if he hadn't been watching for the response.

"Are you able to tell me who it was?"

Tim hesitated. He swiped his face back and forth for a 'no'.

Bruce sighed and thought for a moment. Even though he wanted answers immediately so he could find the perpetrator that hurt his child, he decided not to pressure Tim for any more answers while it was late. He could do research while allowing Tim  
a chance to rest upstairs in his bed and recover some.

"Do you want to tell me in the morning after you've rested?"

Tim shrugged his shoulders. He wanted to tell Bruce everything, he really did. So why couldn't he? Who was he protecting by staying silent?

"Okay," Bruce loosened his grip while saying, "I'll call for Alfred so he can help you wash up and get you into your bed."

"I can do it, Bruce," Dick interjected.

Bruce leaned back creating space between him and Tim. He placed a curled finger under Tim's chin and tilted his face upwards.

"Is it okay if Dick helps you get clean?" Bruce asked as he watched Dick carefully remove the IV from Tim's arm.

Tim nodded as he placed his balled fists back into his lap. He attempted to lower his gaze to avoid Bruce's eye contact out of embarrassment.

"Okay." Bruce turned to look at Dick. "Help him shower, but don't give him a bath. We can't let his injuries get submerged under water."

Dick nodded in acknowledgement and moved an arm under Tim's legs and one behind his back. Bruce helped hoist Tim into his brother's awaiting arms, causing the towel to fall back onto the table. Choosing to leave the crimson stained towel, Bruce  
removed his jacket and wrapped it around Tim's naked body instead. The residual heat sent chills all along Tim's goose flesh skin.

"Thank you, Dick," Bruce said while placing a caring hand on his eldest son's shoulder. "If you need anything, the entire family is in the manor tonight. I'll be down here working."

Dick nodded again and then turned to take his brother upstairs out of the cave.

Bruce was left standing alone in front of the bloody table that was now void of his beloved child. He sat down on the chair that Dick had been using throughout the events of the night. He placed his head in his hands and hunched forward, letting  
the weight of his family's burdens fall upon his shoulders.

He could handle anything in Gotham City, but when it came to his birds, he HAD to try harder to keep them protected from the predators masquerading about.


	8. Flashback Part 5

**You know the drill: apologies for random mystery coding, unecessary paragraph breaks, and missing spaces.**  
 **  
**

 **Was not feeling this chapter. It's lacking depth and feels I just wrote it to get it done. I had a dream that someone wrote a comment saying this chapter was completely pointless.**

 **Maybe it is, but who cares?**

 ****

Dick reached out, flipping the light switch to illuminate the immaculate space of Tim's bathroom. For being a young teenager, Tim kept his room tidy and organized; a trait dick found commendable in the young lad.  
style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.301961);" 

"Okay, Tim. Can you get your footing?" Dick asked as he released the youth's legs and let them dangle centimeters above the tile floor, waiting for his brother to gain balance on his own.

The jacket Bruce had wrapped around his child was barely covering now as Tim stood by himself, arms crossing over his chest.

Dick took the jacket and hung it on the hook secured to the back of the door.

"I may as well get a shower as well, right Babybird?" Dick rhetorically asked as he peeled his Nightwing costume off, feeling the cool air bite at his clammy skin. He watched Tim stand still with his arms folded across himself in a failed attempt to hide  
his body and stay warm. His eyes never raising from the floor.

"You ready?" Dick asked as he placed a hand on Tim's bare shoulder.

Tim nodded while slowly creeping towards the shower stall.

It was a large shower that would easily cater to the boys' needs without causing them to bump into each other during cleaning.

It wasn't uncommon for the birds to shower together in the facility located down in the cave after hours of patrolling, so neither thought this was out of the ordinary.

Tim walked in first and moved to the back of the stall, out of reach of the shower stream. Dick stepped in second and turned the knob to get the water going. He was hit with the bitter cold bite of the water and understood why Tim chose to hide in the  
back. Smart kid.

Dick waited for the water temperature to become warm and then dipped his head under the stream. Wiping water from his eyes, he reached out and waved a hand, beckoning for his brother to come closer to him.

Tim tiptoed close and began to submerge himself under the beads of water. He quickly recoiled from the sting on his skin when the needle like feel of the water scattered across his broken flesh.

"Here," Dick said after noticing the harsh look on Tim's face. He moved under the shower head to block the stream with his back. He turned Tim to face the back of the shower and pulled him against his chest. He tilted the teen's head back and brushed  
the water cascading down his chest onto his brother's hair.

Dick reached for the shampoo bottle and squirted a dollop in his palm. He swiped half onto his hair and then massaged the rest onto his brother's.

Once Tim's head was covered in small bubbles, Dick massaged the shampoo into his own hair. After quickly rinsing, he readjusted the temperature and placed his hands on his brother's shoulders.

"You ready?" Dick asked.

Tim continued his stare down but moved back until he was pressed against Dick's chest. Again, Dick tilted Tim's head back and rinsed the bubbles from his hair. He looked at the length and thought Tim could use a hair trim since his bangs were becoming  
long.

As Dick ran his hands through Tim's long hair, making sure to get out all the excess shampoo, he watched Tim's sullen face relax. His eyes were closed but he could see the tension flee every time he placed his hands on Tim's body.

Dick reached for the washcloth and splashed it with body wash. He did a quick once over on himself knowing the washcloth would be stained after cleaning the grime from Tim.

The older male rinsed the cloth and added fresh soap to it. He began carefully washing the dried blood on Tim's face, being gentle enough not to break open any of the small cuts. His brother's eyes seemed lifeless; a cause of concern for Dick. He was  
always a lively, energetic child, so to see him in this sullen state worried Dick.

Dick glided the cloth down Tim's neck and uncovered an odd bruise above the boy's clavicle. Upon further prodding dick realized the long bruise was actually a burn mark.

"What happened to you?" Dick asked, quietly voicing the pain he felt for his brother with the bemused question.

Tim looked up with his wide blue eyes. "Please, don't make me say it," he pleaded with a mask of fear glaze over his face.

"Oh Tim," Dick exclaimed as he reached out to hug the teenager.

Tim reciprocated by wrapping his arms tightly around Dick's waist and burying his face in his shoulder.

"I just want to forget," Tim quietly squeaked with a shaky voice.

"I know buddy. I know." Dick rubbed Tim's back with the washcloth. He slowly pulled back so he could finish washing Tim's body clean. He was a little surprised not to find any tears filling Tim's baby blue eyes, after hearing the quake in his voice.  
style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.301961);" 

Dick washed the teen's backside carefully so as not to aggravate the traumatized skin. He could sense Tim's discomfort when he noticed the boy's tight, white knuckled grip on the shelf holding the shower supplies.

Both brothers rinsed the soap residue from their bodies and then Dick turned the shower off.

Dick stepped out of the shower, letting the steam escape and wrapped a towel around his waist. He grab the second towel and held it open for Tim to use.

As Tim slowly crept forward out of the shower stall, Dick placed the towel on Tim's head and aggressively rubbed it over his hair. He draped it over Tim's head before long and let it dangle around the boy's body, nearly covering his entire small  
frame with the puffy terrycloth.

Dick grabbed a hairbrush and reached out for Tim.

"Come on," he coaxed as he took Tim's hand into his. He flipped off the light and walked out of the bathroom with Tim trailing behind.

The two brothers found Jason in the bedroom waiting on Tim's bed with a change of clothes for both of them by his side.

Jasons eyes fell to his younger brother and he forced a bashful smile towards him.

"Hey Babybird," Jason cooed. He stretched out a hand and Tim immediately padded across the floor towards him. He always felt protected when Jason was around, even though he was the only one that ever tried to kill him in the past.

As Dick handed Jason the hairbrush, Jason pulled Tim down so he was sitting on the edge of the bed in between his spread legs, facing away from him. He did a quick tussle of the towel over his damp locks and then released the towel so it laid bunched  
at Tim's waist. It was then with all the blood washed away, Jason could see every inch of discolored skin on Tim's body.

Jason raked the brush through Tim's hair while dick grabbed the change of clothes Jason brought for him and proceeded to change.

"Thanks," Dick said as he tied the drawstring to his lounge pants.

"You're welcome," Jason replied while still focusing on brushing Tim's hair.

Jason continued speaking after a moment of silence, "Bruce wanted to see you in the cave before you went to bed, Dickybird."

Dick nodded in confirmation. "What are you gonna do tonight?" He asked, curious if Jason planned to mindlessly roam Gotham as the Red Hood in search of Tim's attacker.

Jason wrapped his arms around his little brother, letting his chin find rest in the crook of Tim's neck.

"I'm gonna stay here for the night with my Babybird."

Tim reached a hand up and held onto Jason's forearm, finding peace and safety in his brother's arms. He closed his eyes wishing he could have this protective feeling forever.

"Okay," Dick said in acknowledgment. "I'll talk to Bruce and be back up." Dick trusted Tim was, literally, in good hands with Jason and knew he would take care of him in his absence.

Dick swiped a hand through Tim's freshly brushed hair, giving a playful tussle before exiting the bedroom.

Jason released his arms, gave a loving pat to Tim's chest, and reached for the clothes he had laid out. He grabbed the boxers first while Tim stood up and turned to face him.

Placing his hands on Jason's shoulders Tim lifted one foot at a time to help get himself dressed. But after the boxers were on, Tim didn't want any more fabric touching his sore body. He moved past Jason and began crawling onto the oversized bed.  
style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.301961);" 

"You don't want anything else," Jason asked while aiding Tim up to the pillows.

"No. I just want to sleep," Tim replied drowsily.

Jason pulled the comforter down and waited for Tim to get his spindly limbs under before pulling it over the teen's body.

"Are you sleeping in here with me?" Tim asked, lightly holding onto Jason's wrist.

"Do you want me to?" Jason inquired.

Tim nodded with half lidded eyes.

"Okay," Jason confirmed. He removed his leather jacket exposing his red shirt underneath and kicked his shoes off. He tossed everything in the corner in a heap.

"Move over," jason playfully said as he gave his brother a friendly shove, careful not to hurt Tim's bruised body.

He crawled under the covers and laid on his folded hands that he rested behind his head, exhaling a long sigh of exhaustion.

He stared at the ceiling knowing sleep would elude him due to the dancing thoughts in his wandering mind.

He thought of the faceless predator.

He thought of him doing things to Tim.

He thought of him laughing smugly.

He thought of murdering him.

He thought of the pain Tim had to endure alone.

Then Jason felt Tim's wet hair on his arm, snapping his mind back to the reality of the present. The teen had rolled over to rest his head on his brother's arm; to feel his warmth.

All of the anger fled Jason's mind for the moment. He rolled towards the small boy, enveloping him in his arms. The teen was swallowed up in Jason's warm embrace.

Sleep quickly came to them both as they clung to each other tightly for reassurance of the others' presence.

Dick later returned to the dark room, finding both his brothers calmly sleeping. He leaned his weary frame on the wooden door and decided not to enter. He didn't want to wake either of them after the troublesome night the family had endured.  
style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.301961);" 

He found peace watching the two rest easy when he felt a hand gently rub his back.

Dick twirled to see Alfred standing behind him. The old man's eyes held pain dick wasn't sure he could understand. As a military medic, Alfred knew far more of the extent of Tim's injuries than anyone.

"Alfred," Dick choked. He reached out for a hug from his faithful butler.

Alfred tightly held his son. He had to be strong for the members in the household but he felt like falling apart himself. The baby of the family had been through a traumatic event no one in the family had ever experienced.

It would be a matter of days before Leslie would call with information from the physical exam. Unfortunately, it would take a lot longer for the emotional damage to heal within the young boy.


	9. Flashback Part 6

**This is a shorter chapter, but I supplied the information I intended. Anymore and it would have become rambling.**  
 **  
**

Alfred walked into the study where he found Bruce Wayne seated in his chair, reading a newspaper.  
style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.301961);" 

"Master Wayne," Alfred voiced. "Dr. Thompkins is on the telephone."

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce said as he hoisted himself out of his lounger and hurried across the study to his desk.

Alfred crossed the room and began mimicking the act of dusting the lamp on the side table carelessly. He was more curious about the results for Tim's exam than keeping the place tidy.

"Hello, Leslie," Bruce answered in a friendly tone, placing the receiver to his ear.

Alfred couldn't make out the muffled sounds of Leslie's voice through the phone, so he focused on Bruce's end.

"Dimethyl Ether?" Bruce repeated into the phone, niceness quickly being washed away. "Like the ingredient used in Freon?"

Bruce's puzzled look was erased with whatever Leslie had said on the other end. It elaborately changed to despair.

"I see."

Alfred watched Bruce listen intently to the doctor. He saw him nod a few times, and end with wiping beads of sweat from his brow.

"So there was an object used instead," Bruce concluded.

Alfred was lost in thought after receiving only half of the conversation.

What object?

What was it used for?

What about the Freon?

"How long do you think?" Bruce asked.

Alfred halted his performance of cleaning the study and, instead, crept closer to Bruce. He cradled the duster in his hands waiting for the moment Bruce was finished so he could have his many questions answered.

"I understand," Bruce exhaled giving a concerned, hurt look to his faithful butler. He placed a hand on Alfred's shoulder, letting him silently know things would be okay.

"Alright, Leslie," Bruce acknowledged. "Yes, I will. Uh huh. I'll be sure to do that. Thank you, Leslie."

Bruce hung up the receiver and focused his gaze down as he moved his body to face Alfred once more. His composure was shaken and Alfred was on his heels waiting for any information about his boy.

Bruce finally looked up and began relaying the conversation.

"Those were Tim's results from the exam." Something of fear or hopelessness shadowed Bruce's features, causing concern for Alfred.

"Do go on, Master Bruce," Alfred insisted, still clutching his duster in anticipation.

Bruce continued, "Leslie found traces of dimethyl ether, ethanol, and tert-butanol in his rape kit." He paused allowing Alfred time to draw his own conclusions on the combination of the chemicals.

Alfred remained puzzled, searching his mind for what the chemicals were found in: biofuel? Propane? Farm feed?

The shock struck him hard when Alfred realized the common household item.

"Hairspray?"

Bruce nodded with closed eyes.

"She also found old scarring from previous attacks and burns as well." Bruce took a breath, "I have reasons to believe, the person that attacked Tim, used a hot curling iron to defile him."

"Oh dear," Alfred gasped, placing a withered hand over his gaping mouth. "For how long?" He mumbled.

"The abuse has been going on for years," Bruce responded. "Not only that, I believe it's someone close to the family."

"Oh no," Alfred whined.

Bruce regained his composure and instructed Alfred in a professional manner after seeing the butler lose his collected calm. "Alfred, I need you to take care of Tim."

"Where are you going, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked, watching Bruce unbutton his jacket.

"I have some questions that need answering." Bruce stopped for a second in the doorway, turning his head back in Alfred's direction.

As bruce loosened his necktie, his voice became more gravelly and his darkness billowed forth, "The Batman is going to get to the bottom of this."


	10. Flashback Part 7

**This chapter is from Tim's POV.**

 ****

It's been months since the 'incident' happened. Bruce confronted me about the attack after receiving information from Leslie, but I still can't talk about it. Hearing the words leave my mouth, somehow makes it seem more real. I mean, it happened, and there's nothing I can do to change that, but I can try to forget it. Right?  
style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.301961);" 

The bruises decorating my skin have since faded away. The stitches are out, and every cut has turned to pink, fresh scar tissue. I am completely healed.

... So why do I still feel this way?

How long does it take the mind to heal it's emotional scars?

I just want the memories to stop. Check that; I just want the nightmares to stop.

I close my eyes and I can see the attacker above me. I feel so small as they scream their ferocious words that cut through me sharper than the knife they just stabbed into the meat of my arm.

I open my eyes and the flashback fades into the background, but I can still hear it faintly playing on an endless loop on my mind.

Has this become my life?

A constant struggle trying to determine reality from fiction? Falsehoods plaguing every ounce of doubt I have about life?

The family has been babying me even more than before. I can tell they're walking on eggshells when I'm around. It's like I'm a ticking time bomb and their words are going to be the detonation to set me off.

I want everything to go back to the way it was before.

Now, they all see me as a weakling.

I can't stand this torment in my head. The deep internal cries are screaming for a release, but I continue to contain them inside.

I bottle the emotions in a perpetual vial of darkness and despair as I put on a brave smile for my family.

I will fool everyone that I am strong; even though I know I am useless.

Worthless.

Bruce still won't allow me to go on patrol. Not alone, nor with the family. My existence in the Batcave is pointless.

I can't fault him, though. How can I be expected to save anyone when I can't even save myself?

The constricting pain creating tightness in my chest causes me to clasp my hand over my heart. I'm tired of choking back the threatening tears.

Only the weak shed tears.

Fury is bubbling over the metaphorical bottle I have constantly been overfilling.

Stop it!

I clutch my hand into a fist and slam it onto my desk causing a loud 'Thud!'

The rage is boiling as I try to control my emotions once again.

Muscles tightening, head racing with thoughts, I hastily sweep my arm across the computer area out of sheer frustration, knocking everything onto the floor in a heap.

A picture frame of my parents clatters down amongst the fallen debris.

I bend down and pluck the frame from the clutter.

Dear Jack and Janet Drake stare back at me, forcing their shit eating grins, while little ol' me is absent from the photo. I've never witnessed true smiles from them during my whole childhood. That was the reason i spent so much time at Wayne Manor. I'm  
appreciated here. I have brothers. Bruce became a father to me.

Staring at their frozen images, the bottle bulges with every negative emotion I can fathom: anger, hatred, sadness, pity; a multitude of burdens hindering a clear thought.

I'm consumed by the darkness in my mind.

With every ounce of strength I could muster, I heave the picture frame at the wall, shattering the glass into shards of my broken childhood dreams of a happy family.

I notice my breathing has become labored and I take a long inhale as I survey the catastrophe that is my life.

I decide to clean up the broken shards before anyone comes in to check on the commotion I've been making. They may not have even heard, depending on their location in the manor.

Gliding my hand across the floor, I brush the sharp pieces into a pile. I feel a hot nick on the tip of my finger and quickly pull back to see a small flap of skin dangling and the darkest shade of red seeping from the fresh wound.

I should have known better than to use my hands, but with the racing thoughts, I wasn't able to think clearly.

Bruce really was right not to let me patrol anymore. I really am a worthless imbecile.

I wipe the blood away onto the lower part of my jeans and check the damage once more. I carefully pick the flap of flesh from my finger to reveal a small, deep gash.

I watch the crimson bubble of blood grow in size until it suddenly loses it's shape and a light stream of red runs down the length of my finger instead.

I am fixated on the fresh cut.

All thoughts ceasefire as I focus on the accruing blood.

If this small laceration can cancel out the dark voices in my head momentarily, what can something on a larger scale do?

I flicked some small pieces of glass out of the way as I searched the pile for my choice weapon. I found a large piece with a jutting, sharp edge I could easily grasp.

My eyes danced delightfully as I slowly glided the homemade dagger across the underside of my forearm. A faint bit of red shined, but I was not pleased, yet. I needed more. A lackluster first attempt to alleviate my internal pain to external, only made  
my desire for physical pain even greater.

I placed the glass at the beginning of the red line and dragged it across my skin once more with more pressure applied. A burst of red ink blotted from the drawn line of the glass pen.

I could feel a sigh release from my chest as my body filled with endorphins from the minuscule amount of pain.

I instantly became relaxed and tired. Not from the bleeding cut, I wasn't losing a significant amount of blood to be feeling sudden exhaustion from that, but it was from the euphoric sensation of finally not being plagued by the hateful voices in my head.  
style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.301961);" 

I haven't had a restful nights sleep for a long time, but my eyelids felt very heavy now.

Dismissing the mess until the morning hours, I walked my corpse of a body to my bed and let the mattress swallow me whole.

I felt peaceful as I laid my head on my pillow and gazed at the blood leaving an imprint on the white sheets.

I pinched the sides of the cut to make the blood momentarily darker and thicker, like sticky sap from a tree. Seeing the color change was like a hit from a drug, creating a magical high for my mind.

I closed my eyes and drifted off into a calm slumber.

I finally found a useful tool to add to my arsenal of weapons against my emotions. I can keep the memories of yesteryear at bay with this new technique of torture.

Everything can go back to normal while I inflict physical pain on myself whenever necessary to cancel the pain I'm feeling inside.

I mean, I want to tell Bruce the truth about everything that happened that night and in the past.

But how can I tell someone my own mother has been abusing me for years?


	11. Story on Hold, But Will Be Back

Hey guys. For those of you finding this story now, or curious why there hasn't been any updates for several months, I updated my phone after this last chapter and the app no longer works correctly for me to post more chapters. However, that being said, I have been accepted to the beta site archiveofourown, and will be reuploading this story, as well as finishing the work.

I apologize for nearly giving up on this piece, but it has not yet been forgotten.

Thanks again for sticking with me.


End file.
